


Don't Test My Patience

by kizzafielding101



Category: BBC Sherlock, Cumberbitches, Sheriarty - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dom - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-02 21:30:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11517852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kizzafielding101/pseuds/kizzafielding101
Summary: Sherlock is fresh out of university and is living in an apartment brought by his brother. One day gets an unexpected visitor who seems to know everything about him despite never having met him before. Naturally Sherlock is intrigued...(DISCLAIMER: The gay sex scenes in this fanfic are in no way accurate and I apologise for not knowing enough about it. Please don't attempt to have sex the way this is written. The scenes are for reading fun only)





	1. An Unexpected Arrival

Jim Moriarty was sat in one of the various chairs in Sherlock's living room. He'd been there for a few hours waiting for him to arrive. His legs were crossed elegantly one over the other and his eyes were softly closed. His head was propped up by the back of the seat and he was trying not to crinkle his suit. Even at a young age, Jim dressed to impress. 

Sherlock's flat had been bought by his brother as a birthday present. He had no intention of staying in it for any longer than he had to but the sudden arrival of a stranger had put a whole new spin on the place. Jim had actually fallen asleep waiting for Sherlock to turn up. It wasn't entirely obvious. To an average onlooker he was merely resting his eyes except Sherlock wasn't an average person. He didn't have time for anyone right now, he was supposed to be going to the mortuary for an experiment. The hours he had been working lately wee shocking and now some moron had broken into his house. Sherlock leant over and flicked him in the face. 

Jim's eyes fluttered open. "That's incredibly rude you know." He looked Sherlock over, analysing him quietly with those soul destroying onyx eyes. Scoffing, Sherlock retorted, "So is breaking into someone's flat. Who might you be?" He took a few steps as he asked towards the kitchen to make tea - as any British person would in a similar situation. Jim stood and waited for Sherlock to come back to the living room. "Jim Moriarty. It's a pleasure to meet you." Sherlock flicked the kettle on but continued the conversation from where he was. "Sherlock Holmes. Likewise... I think." He was trying to check Jim out but the only words that were popping up around him were Irish, gay and well dressed. 

"Your brother told me a lot about you. Mainly he threatened me with 'Don't go near him' and 'If I see you anywhere close to him, I'll have someone kill you.' Blah, blah, blah" Jim took a few steps around the room. "He really does talk an awful lot." Sherlock had started stirring the cups of tea before looking pointedly towards certain areas of the room. "This is his flat. It's probably bugged." He handed over a cup to Jim and watched to see which hand he picked it up with. Jim took it gingerly in his left and smirked as he watched Sherlock store that information for later. "Good. I'd like him to hear me."

Sherlock returned to the living room and took a seat in his favourite leather seat. "Now. Down to business I believe. How can I help you Mr Moriarty?" In reality he just wanted Jim to talk about himself for a bit while Sherlock further deducted important facts. "Oh you can't..." Jim said quickly. "I just wanted to see if you were worth my time. You are by the way. Your brother definitely loves you too much and now that that's apparent to me..." Jim let the sentence die off with a smile. Sherlock picked it up, "Now that's apparent to you... the game begins. Well, what a waste of your talents Jim."

Jim raised an eyebrow and purred, "And what might my talents be?" Sherlock's eyes flicked to the floor for a split second. The floor wasn't what he meant at all but Jim was starting to catch up as Sherlock explained himself. "Gay. Left handed. Well dressed. Irish. Tea drinker... Happy to give a blowjob." He couldn't help himself. Sherlock was 21 and still a virgin. This was the first man that had held his attention... ever. Jim smirked again, "Those aren't talents. Those are character traits. A talent would be how absolutely amazing I am at sucking people off." He leant back in his chair. Sherlock finished his tea and smiled, "Duly noted. And your deductions?"

"Not attracted to many people at all but easy enough for me to rile up. Right handed. Adorable. Insanely intelligent. I'd place your IQ around 190. You've just gotten out of university and you work in a morgue, for now at least."

"Bisexual. Correct. Ambidextrous but favour the right. Intelligence is accurate but closer to 200 thank you. I told you it was my brother's flat so that was an obvious connotation and I reek of dead people."

"Nah, demisexual. Willing to fuck but only if it's me." Jim stretched out and yawned.

Sherlock leant forward in his chair. "Am I boring you? I wasn't quite prepared to entertain. I assumed I'd have my house to myself."

Jim opened his eyes properly to seem a little more interested. "I just haven't slept in a day or two... or three. It's hard to keep track sometimes."

Sherlock nodded in agreement, "Mycroft's bringing me a bed tomorrow, I haven't slept yet anyway."

Moriarty opened his mouth in fake horror. "Well isn't that unfortunate. What are you supposed to screw me on?" He loved to tease, it was easy to control people like that. He had a feeling it would work especially well with Sherlock.

Tensing up a little at his words he tried to shrug it off, "There are various sofas but I barely know you. Bring me a game first."

"I was teasing Sherly," he stood up and wandered slowly to the doorway. "Give me a week... then we'll play."

Sherlock stood to say goodbye to his impromptu guest. "I assume you already took my number?"

"Naturally," Jim winked flirtatiously at his new toy. "Bye!" Sherlock watched as Jim took the stairs two at a time. Roughly a size 6 shoe. He had small feet but long legs. Jim's torso was reasonably well toned but not quite a six pack. His black hair had been slicked back by a number of gels renowned for their 'sticking' ability. Mr Jim Moriarty would soon return and when he did... the game was on.


	2. Missing People

Just over a week later, several people starting going missing before being found dead side by side in a flat in central London. There seemed to be absolutely no cause of death. On each body there was a word branded into the skin. After six people had died, the words said as follows: 'Go. Try and solve it darling'. Sherlock shook his head but chuckled to himself. "I wonder who could possibly have killed them," the sarcasm was getting on Lestrade's nerves, "Why they killed them... now that's a different matter entirely." Sherlock had been muttering to himself in the same tone for the entire case. 

"Well then, who killed 'em? Still gotta arrest the bloke Sherlock!" The pair had only known each other for a year and had been introduced to each other by Mycroft. Greg found Sherlock irritating but there was no denying his genius.Sherlock had stood up and was pressing the tips of his fingers together. "Oh that's clever! That's very clever. He won't have done it himself because look." He pointed at the victims arms. All of them had been branded on the left arm. Sherlock stood over the body as he made his point. "My left, is their right. This wasn't him. He would've had to have leant over." Lestrade sighed in annoyance. "For Gods sake Sherlock, WHO?" It was Lestrade's job to get whoever 'he' was off of the streets and Sherlock was being more of a hindrance than a help.

"You're not listening to me Lestrade." Sherlock turned to face him and rushed through his words. "I've just told you - more than once now - that it wasn't him. I even explained it. So for goodness sake, stop mentally searching for whoever 'he' is because it's physically painful watching you think." Lestrade spat back, "Whether this was 'him' or not, if he's hiring people, he's dangerous too!" Sherlock laughed in his face, "You hired me. You're not dangerous at all. You're barely a threat. I've stolen your badge on a daily basis between 10 and 2 for the last three weeks." 

"YOU DON'T KILL PEOPLE!" Lestrade wanted to strangle the arrogant little bastard. Sherlock stepped back to the bodies as he deduced and further irritated the policeman. "You can't prove that. Nor could you even attempt to try." He winked before leaning down over to get an idea of the suspect. "Your actual suspect is roughly..." Sherlock put a hand above his head trying to measure out the height. "6 foot. Pale. Probably American, branding cattle isn't very British. We use paint. Shoe size 8." Lestrade tried to focus now they were actually getting somewhere. Sherlock liked to beat about the bush far too much. Lestrade wanted the point. "You figured out what's killed them yet?" 

Sherlock ran a finger over the blistered brand on one of the victim's skin. "The heat alone would have been a shock to the system but my guess is they lied on their CV's. None of their names are accurate. None of them are registered to the address they claim they live at." Lestrade sighed and just let him get on. Suddenly, Sherlock's phone started to ring. He stood up and answered the called. "Hello." This call had to contain clue. There were always clues. Jim was impatient. "Have you figured it out yet, or does Daddy need to provide some hints?" His accent had more of a growl to it this time, it wasn't so much threatening as a reminder that he was very much in control. Sherlock thought for a moment before saying, "Maybe Daddy should come and explain it all to us." Flirting back worked. Sometimes. "That wouldn't be nearly as much fun. I've decided I like watching you squirm when you can't figure something out." 

Sherlock bit his tongue for a moment. He could figure it out. He wasn't going to let Jim insult his intelligence. "Who says I can't solve it? I already know that you ordered their deaths but didn't do it yourself." He was getting cocky and it wasn't going to end well. He took a deep breath before tearing into Jim. "That reeks of coward to me." There was silence at the other end for a solid minute. "Say that again -" Jim sang the three little words - but oh boy was there a threat behind it. Sherlock wasn't going to back down. This was game on. "I said... you. are. a. coward." He spat every word this time. Sherlock stood his ground and waited for his response.

That's when a little red dot appeared in the middle of Lestrade's chest. Sherlock turned to see the panic on Greg's face. As he turned back to look out the window it was coming from he heard the Irish accent rumble through the phone. The low Irish accent threatened once more. "One more time, just for Daddy." Sherlock stepped in the laser and covered Lestrade's whole body. He wasn't going to let an innocent be killed and Jim wouldn't kill Sherlock. Not yet anyway. He focused his eyes through the window and fixated on the sniper who was crouched on the fourth floor of the opposite building. "You. Are. A. Coward."

"And you're boring." Jim was no longer on the phone, but rather standing in the doorway. Lestrade went to pull his taser. Sherlock put a hand on Greg's shoulder. "Leave him alone Jim. It's not his fault Sebastian Moran killed these people." He grinned knowing he was right. Seb was Moriarty's right hand man. Sherlock had met him once at college and recognised the gun through the window. Not many other men living nearby had guns. Sherlock further deduced he had a penchant for dangerous men and the word 'Daddy'. Jim circled the room like a cat. "Sebby's a very obedient boy. Listens really closely. Better than you." He came closer to Sherlock and looked from his face to his feet. "We'll fix that soon enough."

Sitting himself down, Sherlock questioned Jim. "So young... Did they lie on their CV in general? Or did they lie to you?" Jim watched him predatorily. "In general. I don't like liars." Sherlock practically snorted, "Says the King of Liars." He was accidentally checking out Jim's ass. He looked good. Jim already knew that though. Sherlock could tell because when he walked - it was all in the hips. "I don't lie," Jim countered, "I never lie. The truth is always there. You've just got to be clever enough to figure it out." Jim disregarded Sherlock looking him over, he wanted to see that brilliant brain at work. "That's still lying." Sherlock grinned at Jim's stupid explanation. "When's the next part of the game?" Jim crouched down, drawing a finger under his jawline. "When you get smart enough to do spit samples and figure out that any poison is always detectable." 

Sherlock rolled over the sixth body quickly to reveal a gunshot wound through the centre of the thigh. "No visible cause of death. Except on this one. I guess Sebby isn't so well behaved after all. Poison can be slow and he hasn't killed anyone properly in a while." He paused to watch Jim's face. He was shaking his head in annoyance. He'd given him one job. Sherlock grinned as he sat cross legged on the floor. "Why don't you go and fuck him into submission?" Jim huffed angrily, "He gets clingy afterwards. I mean really clingy. Like 'please hold my hand from the bedroom to the bathtub' clingy. I suppose it's not his fault though. I don't necessarily stop until he physically can't orgasm anymore." He sighed again. He was getting bored and when he got bored - people died.

Sherlock stood up and headed out of the crime scene, "Well, I'll have to meet him someday. Are you coming back to mine for tea?" He was practically pushing Lestrade out of the door first so Moriarty couldn't kill him. Greg was useful for cases and the rest of Scotland Yard thought he was a freak. Jim looked to his rather expensive watch, "I suppose so. I have enough of a gap in my schedule." Sherlock pouted back at him, "Won't Sebby need you?" He was so focused on Jim that he nearly walked into Lestrade and tripped a little on the stairs. Moriarty noticed all this of course but said nothing. "He can wait. He absolutely hates anticipation, that'll be a good enough punishment... for the time being." Sherlock reached the bottom of the stairs and opened the front door of the flats. "Perfect. Tea it is then." He pushed Lestrade in the direction of some other policemen who had no idea how Jim had gotten into the building.


	3. Get In The Car

Jim's black Audi pulled around the front. "Do get in. Walking's for poor people." Sherlock slid into the car, "Walking's good for you Jim." He started to deduce the driver out of habit. "I'm assuming he's one of yours. Well built." Jim automatically shut the little barrier between the front and the back of the car. "Why? Need something to focus on besides me?" He purred dryly. He did hate it when his little playthings didn't want to talk or pay attention to him. "Just thought you'd hire more interesting people." Sherlock turned his head to face Jim. "You do love a game." Jim smiled, "Everyone's ordinary compared to you and I, darling." Sherlock leant forward and cheekily whispered, "I'm not your darling." As much fun as Moriarty was, Sherlock's mind drifted to a daydream of how Jim would be in bed. 

Moriarty had that enticing smirk of those pretty lips of his again. "No? I mean, you did almost push your friend down the stairs because of me..." Sherlock stuttered over his words, "I was - I was trying to - I didn't want you killing him. He gives me cases and I'd be very bored without them." Sherlock leant back again. If Moriarty was interested, he would move over to his side. "I haven't had a single person get bored with me." Moriarty took the bait because he was impatient and impulsive. He was straddling Sherlock's lap in seconds. Sherlock could smell his aftershave. Burnt wood and gunsmoke. "You appear in my flat. Threaten me. Give me a game and now, you're sat on my lap. I'm getting some very mixed signals." Jim nipped at Sherlock's jawline. "I'm a changeable man." 

Sherlock could feel the danger. He was inches away from a man with weapons on him. "Take the gun out of your pocket." He wasn't going to allow Jim to kill him that easily. This was going to be nice and slow. Like hell was he going to be submissive for Jim Moriarty. He taunted, "Who's said that's a gun..." but begrudgingly took the gun from his pocket. Sherlock's hand locked around the crotch of Jim's trousers to show him the difference. Even a gun would have difficulty being harder than Moriarty. Sherlock smiled before adding to his last request. "And the knife in your back pocket." Jim whined as he threw down the knife, "Can't a girl defend herself!" He looked down to Sherlock's hand. "You're not even going to romance me. Just grab my dick and pray for the best?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and removed his hand. "I was proving a point." Jim leaned forward again and bit his neck. It wouldn't bleed but it would bruise up nicely. Sherlock chuckled as he understood Moriarty's choice of clues from the murders. "I am not yours to brand." Jim held his chin up with two pointed fingers. "Yes, you are. You know you are. Don't fight it darling." Sherlock's eyes were fixed on his as he made a promise that would be easily broken. "I will always fight you. It's more fun that way." Jim grinded on him a little just to watch his face. "Even when I'm nailing you into the bed? Even then Sherly?" Sherlock could control himself easily, "Who said that was going to happen?" Moriarty slid off his lap and collected his weaponary. "I did," he challenged as the car stopped outside Sherlock's flat.

The pair wandered up to Sherlock's room. There was a note on his door that told him Mycroft had popped by with food. He tore up the note and sprinkled it outside. Jim waltzed into the main room after having fixed himself in his trousers. He pulled out his phone and texted someone quickly, smirking as he did so. Sherlock shut the door and could feel the warmth of his grin. "What did you do?" Jim showed the contact number and name in response, "Seb was awfully wound up." Sherlock crossed his arms accusingly, "So, I won't get bored of you but you will get bored of me. So bored in fact that you have to text your sniper. Is that how this works?" Jim tilted his head to the side, "I was just asking him to pick up dinner later..." he pocketed his phone and took a step towards Sherlock."But you are denying me of something I want." His looked had changed from cheeky to hungry and Sherlock was being backed into a chair. "Maybe you should work harder for it?" Sherlock proposed as he spread his legs...


	4. A Forced Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (WARNING: INACCURATE SEXY STUFF BELOW. READ ALONE...)

Jim was immediately dropping to his knees. It appeared he had a submissive side to him too. Whoever had whipped him into shape had been tough about it. Sherlock used his ankles to trap Moriarty between his legs leaving his dick as the only option. "I think I'll be Daddy now." Sherlock smiled widely as he stripped Moriarty of his title. Jim just nodded in response before folding his hands neatly behind his back. "Please," he pleaded. Sherlock's head leaned back, "Blow me first. Then we'll see." Sherlock grabbed his gelled hair and messed it up so he could grab a handful to keep him in line. Besides, messy hair made him seem like a schoolboy, easy to control. Jim made another little noise at that. He seemed to like having his hair messed with. Jim reached out, delicate fingers and steady hands as he undid Sherlock's belt and trousers.

"There's a good boy." Sherlock was stroking the nape of his neck running his hand upwards through the mass of hair. Jim shuddered and tugged his trousers and pants off in one swift motion. He maintained eye contact waiting for permission. Sherlock pulled him closer and pushed his head down slowly. "There's a - " his sudden intake of breath cut his sentence short. Jim had wrapped his lips around him and was keeping his eyes on Sherlock as he began to bob his head, his tongue working wonders. Sherlock's grip was tightening around tufts of Jim's hair. "You can do - OH GOD - better than that..." Jim could hear his breath get stuck at the base of his throat. Jim hummed around him before taking more of him in his throat.

Sherlock was overwhelmed with new sensations, he was going to slip up. He'd started pushing himself further into Moriarty's mouth making him gag a little. "Come on slut," he hissed causing Jim to graze his teeth against Sherlock as a warning. He could put up with the gagging but he hated names like that. The warning hadn't worked so well, if anything it had made Sherlock more dominant. Sherlock grabbed a large chunk of hair and pulled sharply upwards bringing Moriarty within and inch of his face. "Don't you dare threaten me." How dare Jim warn him! He let go of Jim and used the sole of his foot to push him backwards forcing him onto his back. 

As he did so, there was a tear. There was a pause as Jim shot him a look that was far more than a warning. Sherlock had ripped his suit. Jim simply stood, brushed himself off and walked out of the door. Sherlock would pay for that. He had no issues with roughness but wrecking his suits - that crossed the line. 

Sherlock pulled everything back on before grinning. Crossing the line with Jim Moriarty and living to tell the tale. How exciting. Jim would expect him to call and apologise immediately so that wasn't going to happen. Walking around the flat, he pulled all the curtains and shut all the windows. No explosives were getting into his house. No one could see in now. Except Mycroft probably. As much fun as Jim was, Sherlock felt suddenly ashamed when he realised his brother could hear and see him at any time.

About a day later, an entire bus full of primary school children was blown up on a motorway. Jim had caused over 20 deaths and at least 30 injuries. All this because he was annoyed at Sherlock. Lestrade was sat in his car trying to contact families of the deceased. Sherlock strolled onto the scene excited for clues, he was getting some very annoyed looks from the others. "Oh, he really has got childhood issues that man," Sherlock mumbled to himself as he caught up on the events from the newspaper. It was easier than trying to talk to actual people. Once he knew what he needed he found Lestrade. "Any graffiti?" Lestrade gave his condolences to the parents he was on the phone to and turned to Sherlock. "None whatsoever. Just dead children." He was trying not to lose it with Sherlock but the way he walked around like nothing had happened was appalling. Families had lost their children. Innocent children that had been caught up in the middle of Sherlock and Jim's little game. "Do I need to ask who did this?" Sherlock didn't outright admit anything this time. Lestrade tended to fixate on them. "I have a list. What about branding on the bodies or the bus? Specifically suit brand names." Lestrade sighed, "No. There is literally no eviden-"

That's when a gunshot rang out and hit Lestrade in the shoulder. He was starting to be very stupid. There was always evidence. This was his first warning. Sherlock just pulled the bullet out by hand, "Sorry. I have a feeling that was meant for me." Sherlock walked him over to the onsite ambulance. With all the noise the gunshot was barely heard by anyone except him. Lestrade would be fine. Probably. It was a silver bullet and a little large than usual, a hint as to the next case?

Jim just wanted to cause Sherlock pain; and lots of it. He texted Sherlock. 

'This isn't meant for you. Mind your own business.' - JM

Sherlock replied:

'I have a present for you' - SH

He didn't. Yet. He needed to go shopping. Ignoring the case that would easily be put down to terrorism he walked to the nearest road that was open and hailed a cab. 

***************************

Jim was bored. For the tenth time that hour he contemplated killing himself just to evade the never endingness of life. He sighed softly and walked around his office like a zombie. Sherlock knocked on the door. It had taken him a few hours but after picking up Jim's little apology present, he had finally found his address. "DELIVERY," he said in a perfect Irish accent. 

Sebastian answered the door. The poor man was ridden with hickeys and bite marks. His tank top barely covered him. "Thanks," he mumbled to Sherlock not recognising him at first. Sherlock shoved his way through the door, Jim's present hung in a ziplock bag over his shoulder. "So it isn't just me you like to brand then. Why does my neck match your employee Jim?" His gun was in his pocket and his hand was very close to it at the moment.

Jim dramatically walked down the quartz staircase towards Sherlock. "Jealous?" He tilted his head and smirked before coming to stand right in front of the detective. "I know why you were mad." He held the bag out to Jim, "I think it's your size. It's certainly your colour." Jim flicked a hand to Sebastian to take it somewhere. "Awwww, Sherly. You shouldn't have." He tackled him to the floor, biting and nipping at his throat and jawline.

"It's Westwood." Sherlock whispered in his ear hoping that would be enough to get Jim to go and look at it. "I know," Jim could tell suit brands apart in 0.2 seconds. He tugged off Sherlock's coat. Sherlock was kind of jealous but Jim was currently on top of him - not Sebastian. "Am I actually going to get to fuck you this time?" Jim grinned and stood, holding a hand out to help Sherlock up. "Of course not, silly boy. I'm going to fuck you."

Sherlock's eyes widened a little. It was easy to put your dick in a hole but someone else doing it to him. Yay but ow. He gulped and took Jim's hand anyway. He'd said he would always fight Jim but right now he didn't really want to make it worse for himself. "Can we forget my little promise?" He asked Jim quietly. Jim nodded, he didn't like his toys fighting back. It made him remember they were real people. 

His room was really quite impressive. It was simplistic but the things he did have on display were very expensive. Sherlock's head nearly turned the full 360 degrees as he looked around the room but the moment he had turned back to Jim it seemed like he was going to be pushed forward because Jim needed his ass. While that was true, Moriarty preferred the intimacy of missionary. Sherlock didn't want to beg, he was trying to become a respectful man of the world but he was scared. "Go easy on me. Please?" His voice was so quiet he was hoping Jim had heard him. Jim wanted to say 'aww' he sounded so sweet and innocent. Not for much longer. "Darling, I hurt people in every other aspect of my life, you think I'd bring it into the bedroom?" Sherlock thought about it as he rolled onto his back to look up at those amazing brown eyes of his. "Honestly. Yes." Jim traced the outline of his face with his nails, "Aren't you just gorgeous. Go on and strip, I won't be a minute."

That sounded ominous. He had gone into another room where Sebby his pet sniper might be... or god forbid a camera. He took everything off except his pants. He could take them off once Moriarty was in the room, clearly unarmed. Jim took two minutes in total (Sherlock had been counting) and came back holding a bottle of lubricant. "Sorry, I had to hang the suit up. It's a beauty by the way." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Is Seb entirely useless?" He quickly looked Jim up and down. No weaponary for once nor a sign of any recording device. Sherlock's gun was under his trousers in the corner if he needed it. Sherlock pulled his underwear off and lay back down on the bed. Jim just smiled at him before taking off his pants and kneeling on the bed in front of him. Sherlock caught a glimpse of him between his legs and saw what exactly was going into him. He tried not to show nervousness but the phrase, "Oh wow," had slipped through his lips. "Oh hush," Jim pressed a finger to his lips for a second. He didn't want Sherlock fawning over him like literally every other person he'd been with, including Seb.herlock wasn't fawning, he was stalling for time. He was excited but he wasn't sure how this would work. He shut his eyes and waited to feel Moriarty inside him. Jim applied a very generous amount of lube before lining himself up. "Are you ready darling?" Sherlock tried to relax himself before nodding. Jim slowly started pushing inside watching Sherlock's face closely, prepared to stop if need be. Sherlock sighed contently. This position was good. He wasn't going to have to move very much.Occasionally he bucked his hips but that was about it. "So, what's your kink. How do I make you y'know?" Jim didn't move for a few seconds taking in the feel of him. "Make me what darling." It was cute he didn't want to say it. Sherlock could see the experience in his face, Jim knew what he meant but he was going to make him grow up. "Make you cum quicker." He was going to try and be poetic about it but he figure Jim would appreciate the rawness of his words. Considering where he was. Jim smirked, "Why? Don't want to be left a babbling mess?" Sherlock was fine as long as Jim didn't touch his dick. If he started to play with it... he would not be responsible for the consequences. "Just for future reference." Jim started moving, slow and deep pausing to lay kisses on Sherlock's chest. "You'll find out in the future then." Sherlock felt the cold lube turn warm as Jim stayed inside him for a few moments. The gaps between Jim moving backwards and hitting his thighs were far too long. He wanted him touching all the time. Jim could see him biting his lip and trying to hide it. He'd cum when he wanted to, not when Sherlock did. "If you want something you better beg baby." Sherlock crossed his arms like a stubborn schoolboy. "Make me." Maybe that would speed him up. Maybe... Moriarty just stopped altogether. "What was that?" Sherlock bit his lip again, "Oh. You're the dominant one. Right." He hating being submissive but it was for a case. Sort of. Jim stared at him, waiting for some sort of sign that he would behave. He wasn't playing games here. He either got what he wanted or he left. Sherlock span Jim around on the bed so he could sit on top of him. "No games here. You want a good time. I'll give it to you." He took a breath before leaning forward to kiss him. Jim leant into it. His lips tasted like dark chocolate and whisky. His already aged hands rested on Sherlock's hips. As he pulled up Sherlock remembered what Jim called himself in most phone calls. "Daddy..." It made him shiver as he pushed himself up and came crashing down again. Sherlock needed to be touched but he wanted to last, his legs started to shake. Jim could feel him and held his hips tighter. "You alright, darling?" He traced little circles on hips. "First time," Sherlock smiled shortly. He used his mind to force his legs to sort themselves out. He was going to see it through this time. Moriarty had got away from him at the flat. "I can tell," his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, "You're awfully tight." Sherlock took that to mean he was winning. If Jim had just shut his eyes for a moment than it would have just been another move in his game. This... was a giveaway. He sped up his movements and forced himself down harder than before. Very small gaps remained between every thrust. Jim sighed in content. "Isn't this better than being in your flat where big brother can watch?" Sherlock kept up his pace. "He's the British Government Jim. He can watch anywhere. Even here." Jim bit his lip cheekily knowing he had a jammer in the flat blocking out any spies, "Not here." Sherlock let out a moan as he slammed into Jim once more. "How am I doing, for a new boy?" Jim ran an hand sharply through his hair. "Adequate." He watched Sherlock's face for a moment before flicking his eyes to his cock. "You'll learn though." Jim wrapped a hand around him and chuckled as Sherlock moaned even louder. This was game over for him. He breathed desperately. Moriarty had unlocked speeds Sherlock didn't even know he was capable of. He did short, sharp burst of up and down the more he wanted Jim to play with him. "Fuck me." The man had so much power in his hand and he was using it, he sped up a little, "You're so precious." That smirk of his was killing Sherlock. "Please. Don't -" his voice cracked. He needed to cum, he couldn't get any harder. His hips were moving with a mind of their own and Moriarty was nowhere near close. "Daddy," he begged, "Please." Jim flicked his thumb over the tip. "What a good boy," he praised. He was loving this. He could take Sherlock apart with a few touches. Verging on tears Sherlock couldn't stop himself from begging again and again. "Daddy - oh fuck me." He had a dick inside him that wouldn't cum and a dick outside that Jim refused to satisfy. "I'll do anything. Just let me cum. Anything!" Jim smirked, he knew exactly what he was going to do. "Anything?" Sherlock nodded instantly but regretted it as Jim pulled his phone out from behind a pillow. He hadn't checked the room. His mind was fucked as well as his body. Jim snapped a picture and sent it to Mycroft. Jim was such a cunning little shit but God he was good in bed. Pulling out slowly from Sherlock, he leant over him and Sherlock could feel the heat coming off him. He moved his hand out of the way before wrapping his lips around him. Sherlock's breathing become laboured. Moriarty felt every rise and fall of his chest. "Fuu-ck. I'm going to cum." He expected Jim to move out of the way but he remained where he was, his eyes teasing him. Sherlock came in his mouth, throwing his head back in pleasure. His throat had sort of closed off for a few seconds but it felt good. He had to return the favour. "How do you hold it for so long?" Sherlock was genuinely baffled. How was it possible? Jim grinned, he could do something Sherlock couldn't. "Practice." He'd been with only one woman his entire life and she'd taught him good. He missed her sometimes but decided that putting Irene in danger wasn't an option. She could do that herself. "Did I last longer than Seb on his first go?" He assumed Seb was like him, although a lot stronger now. Jim pressed lazy kisses to his abdomen and chest, "No, I made him wait longer than you." Sherlock smiled, "Does this mean I'm the favourite? My King gave me mercy sooner." Sherlock moved to start sucking him off, he did this for drug money once upon a time. Even while high, he could go all day. Jim's breaths were a little shaky, he was only just starting to get mildly aware of himself. "No. It just meant I didn't want to hear you whine anymore." He figured he should let go soon so Sherlock wouldn't be there forever. Sherlock remembered a trick that no one ever used. Guaranteed to make any man cum in a few seconds. Whether Moriarty knew how to counter this one or not, he hadn't a clue. Jim made a mewling noise and came, his hands buried in Sherlock's curly locks. He swallowed quickly. "Was that me or you?" Jim decided to throw him a bone, "All you." Sherlock climbed on top of him and kissed him. "Liar, but thank you." He lay more kisses from his cheek to his hips. Jim stretched out then checked his phone. "While we're in the afterglow," Sherlock started, "was that my brother you sent pictures of me to?" Jim nodded, "Just thought he should know that I'm not listening to him." Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "What did he say?" Moriarty was texting someone else now, "I wouldn't know. I haven't opened the message." After a few minutes Sherlock piped up again. "Is it broken?" He was still dripping on the bed but it was his first go and he was 21. Jim sighed and set his phone down, "Stop touching it doofus." Sherlock got up to get changed, "Well. Tea was different than last time." Jim yawned, "Predicatable." He hadn't given Sherlock anything in return for the suit, how rude of him. He'd buy him something nice soon. Maybe a Stradivarius. "I'll go home then. Enjoy your little present." He'd changed and slung his coat over his arm, gun visible in his waistband. He wobbled a little as he walked. Apparently, anal bruised a bit. Sherlock walked to the top of the bed and kissed his forehead. "Night Daddy." Jim mumbled something unintelligible and slept.


	5. A Snipers Love

Sherlock left Jim's room and saw Seb sat on the sofa watching crappy daytime TV. "You don't seem like a sniper." He hated him already. Sebastian shrugged, "I'm just a normal guy when I'm not on the job." Sherlock was looking at his neck, some of the bruises seemed deeper than love bites normally are. "Is Jim... good to you?" Seb looked to the floor, Jim was brilliant to him but he didn't want Sherlock to think Jim was a good partner. Then he'd have competition. "He was real mad when you ripped his suit so... I let him have a go at me." He smiled, "He's got quite the mouth." Sherlock took a few steps closer to the door, "I'm aware of the latter but it's not up to you to take the hit for other people's faults." Sebastian wanted to wind him up before he left. He was angry that he'd had to sit there and listen to Jim please someone else. "It was really good." Sebastian stood up to open the door for Sherlock, probably out of habit. Jim must be strict with him to get him to obey like a common servant.

"I guess I'll see you at the next part of the game or rather I'll see your laser." Sherlock slapped Moran's ass rather hard as he left the building. He didn't like that at all. In fact, he would have to get revenge for that. Jim tended to be a bit rougher with Seb because he knew he could take it. Unfortunately, it left bruising a little more than Sherlock was used to. One slap was like an echo down a perfect hallway. It hurt like all hell.

******************

Sherlock returned to his flat with his brother already there. 'Here comes the lecture about fraternising with the enemy' he thought. Mycroft wasn't so much annoyed about who he was having sex with as concerned that he was doing it right. The gay sex talk was something he'd never wanted to hear come out of his brothers mouth. 

Jim woke up to check his texts in time. Mycroft had sent him another warning so Jim ordered a bomb to distract him. Sleepy Moriarty just wanted Sherlock to be comfortable for the time being, and imagined that his brother was about as far from comfortable as you could get. Mycroft's phoned rang before someone told him that his office had been blown up. Sherlock snorted and checked his phone for any new cases. Mycroft left the house in a hurry but his last words were, "For God's sake, use a condom." Sherlock desperately needed a distraction so headed to Scotland Yard muttering, "He is too involved in my life."His phone buzzed in his pocket and he read it as he walked.

'You're welcome darling Xx - JM'

Sherlock chuckled as he arrived in Lestrade's office. "Any murders yet. I should be bored, he's still asleep." Lestrade looked at him. "You know we don't want people to die yet." Sherlock paused and thought. "No... because that's - bad?" Greg sighed and opened his emails, "Just help us get the man in charge of all this." Sherlock gritted his teeth, "I can't do that. He's promised me a game." He checked his phone again. Nothing. Lestrade stood up in anger knocking over a pot of pens. "You're letting people die Sherlock!" Caring was most definitely not an advantage. Not for Lestrade anyway. "People die everyday Ted. We can't cry about all of them. Now, I believe a business needs my help." Sherlock looked up at the clock. 2pm. Lestrade sighed. "It's Greg..." An email had just come through. "There's the address. Just fucking go." Lestrade had lost all respect for Sherlock, he wouldn't be calling him in again anytime soon. It was Sherlock's job to stop people, not enable them to get worse.

Sherlock was already out of the door and hailing a cab. He had a feeling this was somehow linked to Moriarty. A business in central London. Lots of glass windows to shatter, how very theatrical. He waltzed into the reception area and leant over the front desk. "Sherlock Holmes. Scotland Yard. You emailed?" The woman just screamed, quickly pulling a gun on him. "HE WARNED US - about you." He took the gun off her effortlessly. "WHO? Who warned you about me?" And that's when the janitor shot Sherlock in the back. Apparently Sebastian had been very thorough when 'warning' people. He really wanted Sherlock dead. No one was having his Jim.

Rushing to his mindpalace, Sherlock chose to fall forward. He came back and turned to face the janitor. "That was rude." He face planted a shiny concrete floor. His nose was definitely broken. He had a feeling someone would come and pick him up once they realised he wasn't dead. It got reported pretty quickly when a customer walked in and recognised him. As soon as Jim found out he had gotten shot he was on route to St Bart's hospital. Of course he had to make sure Sherlock was OK. Who else was he going to play with?

The detective had been patched up and barely noticed Jim had arrived. The morphine was working wonders. Although his face was a little blurry he partially recognised the oak coloured circles in his head. He was just waiting for the sarcastic comment. "Hello Sherly." His Irish charm was enough to wake Sherlock up further. "That was unexpected." He was currently the King of Bitchface. His brother had yet to surface and the fact Moriarty had turned up before Mycroft was very telling."Are you alright? Do you know who it was? I'll pull their heart out." Sherlock settled himself in his plethora of pillows. "I can take a wild stab in the dark. As did he I assume." Jim tilted his head to the side and leant on his hand, "What do you mean?" Sherlock scoffed, "I assume you wouldn't talk to janitors... Who knows the people behind the plot? Who helps you commit crime? Who is your - stress toy?"

Moriarty leant back in his chair and swore under his breath. He thought he'd chosen such a good sniper. One who did as he was told and didn't get feelings involved in cases. "Sebastian wouldn't go against my orders... who am I kidding? He's done it once. He'll do it again." Jim pulled his phone out and tapped furiously at the keyboard, "I'll see to it that he doesn't bother you anymore darling." Sherlock smiled at Jim's over protectiveness. "Don't kill him just yet. He might be fun to play with." He sucked on his teeth as he thought of all the evil things that would hint at his inventive demise. "Slap him. I did it and he hated it. It'll give him a hint and he'll start counting down the days." Jim ran a finger under his chin. "Devious boy. How clever of you."

"I'm sure you'll think of some other tasteful ways to irritate him. Naturally, you should have the pleasure of killing him yourself. A goodbye session perhaps?" Sherlock was smirking at the thought of Jim running a hand down his thigh. Jim's eyes sharpened, "That would be a reward. He doesn't get any rewards from now until his death, sweet boy." His voice was cold, no emotion was present at all. Jim Moriarty was not a man to be messed with. "What about me?" Sherlock asked, "I did just get shot!" He sounded like a child wanting a treat. Jim sat on the bed looking at the vulnerable boy, "I can't fuck you if you're hurting." Sherlock just turned up the morphine levels, "The drugs block it out and where better than in hospital, any damage you do can easily be repaired." Jim looked out of the window, the blinds were still open. "Your brother should be here soon, shouldn't he?"Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, the hospital lights were bright and hurting. "Probably avoiding me. He tried to give me the sex talk. Except he clearly doesn't know anything about it." Jim snorted at the thought of Mycroft trying to explain such an intimate ordeal to his little brother. "Why would he even attempt it? He should know you clearly understand sex." Sherlock blushed a little and he felt his cheeks burn. He raised a hand to hide it and smiled. "I do know. You could teach me some more?" Sherlock patted his lap and sat up in the bed.


	6. Brother Mine

Sherlock and Moriarty had enjoyed themselves for a few minutes but then Sherlock went and got cocky again. He'd claimed that Jim wouldn't kill his little stress toy, he wouldn't go through on his promise. Jim didn't like being challenged, he threw a hand out and tightened it around Sherlock's throat. "Can't you listen? I don't reward bad boys like you." He climbed off and tidied himself up. He had to look fabulous before he went to kill a bitch. "Hurry back," Sherlock joked. Jim waved from the doorway, "Don't wait up."

It was as Moriarty opened the door Sherlock realised Mycroft had been in the family room the whole time. Sherlock muttered obscenities under his breath. How much had he seen? Did he see Moriarty leave? He needed to get changed but the only hospital gown he had access to was the one Jim had ripped off him. He settled for hiding under the covers, tucking the remnants of his paper tunic under the bed. Mycroft knocked on the door a few minutes later. Sherlock pretended to be asleep. "Don't be pathetic. You snore in your sleep brother mine." Sherlock buried his face in his pillow. "Go away Mycroft." Mycroft sat in the seat Moriarty had been in not thirty minutes earlier.

Jim texted the pair of them a picture of Sebastian with one of his ribs severely dislodged. 

'Having fun with bae. He loves the game do you sound like a xylophone' -JM

Sherlock snorted as Mycroft held out his phone to show him. "Something to do with you I suppose?" His brother nodded and smiled, Jim followed through on his promise. "Believe me. He isn't innocent in any sense of the term." Mycroft just rolled his eyes, "Do I want to know why Moriarty is trying to kill him?" Sherlock pulled the sheets over him uncomfortably and readjusted in the bed. "Ah," Mycroft mumbled. 

Jim was just rounding off his murder as he phone Sherlock. He believed a celebratory dinner was in order. Sherlock rolled over in the bed and grabbed his phone from the side. "Hello. I'm with my brother." Jim kicked Sebastian in the stomach, "Dinner? When you're well enough of course." Another swift kick to the mouth made his little pet scream. Sherlock was going to make him wait for a proper answer. "Still alive then?" Jim's voice was so cold he loved it. Torture was a means of escaping boredom. "I'm afraid so. I do love a good torture session." Sherlock remembered an article he read a few days before about ancient methods of murder. "I saw. If you pull his ribcage out and open it over him, it's called the blood eagle." Jim drew out a sharpened metal pole and started stabbing Sebastian with it. "Wonderful darling but I believe I was asking you to dinner." Sherlock replied quickly, "I do believe you left me in a hospital bed - naked." He was ignoring Mycroft, this was relationship business. Jim paused and purred down the phone to Sherlock. "I have business to take care of Sherly. Be a good boy, answer Daddy." Sherlock shivered and Mycroft didn't even want to know what he'd said. "Yes," Sherlock obliged, "That would be lovely but please hurry because I can't bare to sit here a moment longer."

There was a piercing scream and Sherlock moved the phone away from his ear until there was silence. Moriarty kicked him but the amount of blood coming out of him was satisfying enough. "I'll be there soon darling." He blew a kiss down the phone as Sherlock ended it with, "See you soon Daddy." Mycroft was completely horrified. If normal people's relationships with people were disgusting, his little brother's relations were a million times worse. He was supposed to be above this obsession with human contact but apparently not. "I suppose it's too late to ask you to rethink?" Sherlock shot him a look. Jim was on the way and he didn't want Mycroft there when he turned up again. 

Mycroft complained about all of Jim's bad points for a bit before realising he was heading down the corridor. Jim pushed through the door and bowed to Mycroft, "Your highness." He loved to tease Mycroft. The faces of digust he pulled were brilliant. He went and sat on Sherlock's bedside. "Oh thank God. Sign me out will you. The Nurse tried to hand feed me." Mycroft stood and nodded at Jim, "I'm going then. Think about what I said brother mine." Sherlock sighed and his head fell deeper into the pillow as the heavy door shut. "Thank you. He's so... overbearing." Moriarty pushed a chair under the door before pouncing on Sherlock, "I do hate it when you don't listen the first time." Sherlock didn't smile this time and instead squealed in pain. He'd landed on the morphine drip and pulled the needle up through the skin. Jim pulled open a cupboard and found something to cover it with. It was only a small cut. He'd live. "Oh hush. You'll be fine." He fixed the drip and there was no more bleeding. 

Sherlock sniffed before laughing, "Medical expert and common criminal. Two things that don't normally mix." Morphine was one of his two reasons to live at the moment. Jim kissed his forehead, "Why don't you take a nap?" Dealing with Sherlock when he was tired or bored was like dealing with a toddler that refused to accept the truth. "I've had a nap," he moaned, "Mycroft woke me up." Moriarty started to run a hand through his hair, "Sleep, for me." He tried to fight it, the man sat in front of him was just too handsome for words but the morphine was kicking in and his eyelids were heavy.


End file.
